Kick It

I need to start dating someone soon.

Because of the nature of my business, I get invited to some totally sweet parties and events in LA. Take a snapshot of my calendar from last week to next week and you'll see the Lakers' season-opener at Staples (Luke, you are my boyfriend!), The Game $2 bill concert at the Music Box, a cocktail reception at the Beverly Hills Hotel, a VH1 "Be Fabulous" party on Sunset, two personal friends' parties (where another hot Luke, that of the Wilson denomination, was spotted!) and fan diving, which is fake sky-diving.

I have problems, people. I am not bragging here. All of these fun times and I can't remember who was with me when shit goes down. Who will get my hilarious quips that refer back to this or that? I need a guest -- a Garth to my Wayne. Actually a Wayne to my Cassandra... "Oh, I'll see if (insert name here) is free because of course he will join me if so."

I brought my friend, Tessa, to my work-sponsored holiday party last year. I had no safety and she was looking for a job, so I thought it would be good for her to network a little. Turns out many people brought their same-sex, real-deal partners, confirming many suspicions. We lesbonically arrived together in her Subaru, fresh from our field hockey end-of-year party. Duh! People were actually elbowing me and telling me how pretty she was! Ew! (No offense, Tessa!)

I have damage control duty for this year. My coupled-off friends ask me what kind of guy I want. I've thought about it. Here are my required a-man-ities. Get a pen.

He must be smart, seven-to-eight-range handsome and charming with a good job. He must be at least 90% as funny as I am (an easy one). Nice manners. He cannot be shorter or thinner than me. Also, he can't be more than 15 pounds overweight. (I've been there twice. One actually ate my lunch out from under my nose! Yes, I'm gonna eat that -- damn!) Good hair and teeth are preferable. Accents from interesting places are a plus; I don't consider the dirty south an interesting place. He must live in Los Angeles or San Diego and entertain the notion of a move to the east coast some day.

He must be reasonably athletic; if I throw him a football, he must not fumble. I am largely uninterested in musicians of the guitar variety, unless said guitarist is also athletic. (However, I have never tried to disprove this bias and manual dexterity does intrigue me, so that may be negotiable.) He must know at least ten hip hop artists who are good. He must know how to dress himself well in at least one category. Grammar and travel -- lack of either means we have "no deal." Dancing is a plus. He must have a healthy relationship with his mom and he must tell her early and often how much he adores me. No drugs. No horrifying feet. No kids. No wives -- current or otherwise.

He should have a couple of similarly-fabulous single friends who I would consider a potential match for one of my single friends. He must not feel threatened by or even mildly uncomfortable with my obsession with Tom Brady. He must hate the Steelers and be sick of Payton Manning. My age range is minus two and plus seven.

I am willing to substitute one requirement for an exceptional showing in another.

See, it's no big deal. I'm easy to please, people! Hit me up if you know someone. Until then, you can find me at the club, with a bottle full of bub... and my roommate.